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Porter
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HIROSHI LEAVES AT THE same time as Burlington, leaving the three of us with our father-in-law to be.
We all visibly relax when Blake’s new colleague leaves and takes his rifles with him.
I don’t judge people who like hunting or shooting, our constitution grants us the right to bear arms, but it’s not my thing.
I’m a healer, I devote my life to protecting and preserving life, and guns make me nervous.
And talking about nervous, Richard looks on edge for some reason.
“Guys,” he says, his eyes shifting from me, to Blake, to Max. “There’s one last thing I have for tonight.”
Oh sweet Jesus! I’ve learned to fear my father-in-law’s ideas, so I brace myself for whatever he’s got up his sleeve this time.
He walks to the hallway, returning into the kitchen with a carrier bag. He takes out a bottle of aged scotch and a wooden box that I identify as a humidor. He opens it and there’s four thick, dark brown cigars lined up inside.
“Richard, that’s very kind of you but those better be just regular cigars. I hope you didn’t bring anymore—”
“Relax, son. It’s just some really good, really expensive hand rolled cigars I picked up during my latest business trip to the Dominican Republic. These are mellower than most Cubans and pair really well with that scotch. I just wanted to have a smoke and a talk with the three of you, before I officially get to call you sons.”
A look passes between me and my brothers; this looks harmless enough but I think it’s a great idea when Max suggests taking the bottle and the cigars outside, since it’s a nice night.
The way things have been going these days, I’d be afraid to have to tell my bride that our house burned down, so it’s with a sigh of relief that I settle on one of the lawn chairs in the backyard and accept a tumbler of whiskey and the cigar lighter.
I don’t normally smoke and I certainly don’t even try to inhale the cigar but it has a sweet and spicy flavor on my lips and the whiskey seems to enhance it.
We smoke and drink quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet, breezy summer night.
The half-moon is circled by a silver halo and the crickets and the cicadas are singing their mating songs. Everything is quiet and peaceful and I realize that I’m at peace too.
All I want is to say I do tomorrow and to be bound forever to the woman I love. Sure, it’d be cool to have her call herself Mrs. Stevens but in the end it doesn’t even matter if I don’t win rock, paper, scissors. What matters is that I’m hers and she’s mine ... ours.
“So, how is everyone feeling about tomorrow? Any cold feet?”
Richard breaks the silence, his normal easy going, jovial attitude completely gone. I see a hard light in his eyes and his mouth is set in a straight, determined line that reminds me of his daughter when she sets her mind on a goal.
I look at Blake and Max before settling my gaze on Richard and speaking for all three of us. “We’re ready, excited and no one has cold feet. We’re looking forward to marrying the most beautiful, smartest, compassionate woman we’ve ever met. We’re incredibly lucky to have met Magnolia and all we want is to make her happy everyday as long as we live.”
Richard nods, taking a long drag from his cigar, his knuckles white on the crystal tumbler. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear,” he finally says. “But I also wanted to issue a warning, since what you guys decided to do is unconventional to say the least. You’ve lived with my daughter for almost a year now, so you must know her well.”
We all attempt to confirm that we do but Richard’s hand shoots forward in a commanding gesture, he isn’t done with his warning.
“Y’all know how my Magnolia is a sweet, passionate dreamer. She’s a free spirit and she loves with all her heart, there’s nothing my baby girl wouldn’t do to make the ones she loves happy. This is why I hope you take your job as her husbands as seriously as you need to. Magnolia has never played games; she gives everything to the people she loves and I need you three to cherish and protect that. If I ever catch wind that you’re taking advantage of her, so help me God. Are we clear?”
Three identical “Yes, sir” are uttered in unison.
“Good. God knows I’ve had to use all my self-restraint not to teach a lesson to Tripp, her cheating ex.”
I’ve never felt more respect for Magnolia’s father, so I reassure him about my intentions. “I don’t blame you, Richard. And I think I can pretty much guarantee you that if any of us ever betrayed Magnolia in any way, or hurt her, you’d have to stand in a line with the other two, Jen and each of our parents to cut his dick off. But there won’t be any need for that. Magnolia is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of us and I promise we’ll do everything in our power to deserve your daughter.”
Max and Blake utter similar reassurances and I’m thankful to see that Richard looks appeased. I want nothing to ruin the day for Magnolia tomorrow.
“Well then.” Richard smiles, taking a sip of his whiskey. “From now on, y’all can call me Dad. But now you can tell me, which one’s going to be my official “son-in-law”?”
We’re all thankful that he doesn’t suggest another dick measuring contest when we admit that we haven’t been able to choose yet.
***
Max
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DAD goes to bed but the three of us decide to sit outside just a while longer. After all, we do have a decision to make and it would be completely undignified to play rock, paper, scissors tomorrow in front of Magnolia, Peaches – Magnolia and Gemma’s ex have become pretty good friends, so it’s been decided that the former army chaplain will be our officiant – and all our families and friends.
We sit quietly in our backyard, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I’m looking at the big expanse of our lawn and decide that we should put a pool in for next summer. Imagine the fun we could have playing in the water with our bride.
“Want another drink?” Porter offers. “Dad left the bottle and we have something important to discuss.”
“Just a little. I don’t want to feel hungover tomorrow. And also, I think I should go get some ice, I prefer my whiskey on the rocks.”
Porter takes the glass out of my hands. “I’ll go get it. I want some too. Blake?”
Blake says he’s fine without ice, so Porter walks back into the kitchen carrying both of our glasses.
“Well, I guess it’s fucking crunch time, hey?”
I nod, bracing myself to face the impossible decision we have to make. We all know that Magnolia loves us equally and that whose name is on that piece of paper doesn’t really matter because it’s just that, a name on a piece of paper. But nevertheless, my competitive nature prevents me from walking away from the possibility of having her take my name. And I know Porter and Blake feel exactly the same.
The sound of some major commotion coming from the kitchen makes me turn. Is Porter getting some ice or remodeling the whole fucking room?
And talking about Porter, we hear him scream. Yes, you heard right, scream. A look passes between me and Blake and we both rush into the kitchen, because this must be bad. I haven’t heard Porter scream in the almost twenty-five years I’ve known him.
The scene that awaits us in the kitchen is as funny as it is weird.
Porter is standing flat against the wall opposite the fridge, his chest heaving and his eyes wide with fear. There’s a big chunk of jagged glass stuck into the wall too close to Porter’s neck for comfort. There are ice cubes scattered all over the kitchen floor as if there’d been a hail storm.
“What the fuck?” Blake and I ask.
Porter swallows slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as he tries to catch a breath.
“What happened?” Blake asks.
“The fuck if I know. I— I was just getting ice from the dispenser in the fridge. The first few cubes were ok, then the fridge started making a weird, buzzing noise and no ice was coming out, so I pressed harder and the last thing I know the dispenser started shooting ice cubes at me. I tried to shield my face but one of the glasses slipped from my hand shattering against the fridge and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d say it’s complete bullshit but ... the glass shards kinda bounced back at me as if they were knives thrown by a circus artist. As you can see, I narrowly made it without being sliced to death.”
Our knee jerk reaction is one we can’t help, we burst out laughing at how ridiculous what happened just is.
Porter, though, isn’t laughing. “Sorry, dude. I understand how you still feel shaken ... not stirred.” I can’t help the cocktail pun, overcome by another fit of laughter and finally Porter seems to relax.
“Dork.” He snorts. “Let’s clean up this mess.”
We clean up and there’s some arguing about it when I try to get ice again.
Porter warns me. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you, dude. You just saw what happened to me.”
A couple of perfect ice cubes slip into my glass with a satisfying clink and nothing seems to be out of the ordinary.
“Whatever!” Porter, scoffs annoyed as I pass him the glass and get some more ice for myself.
It looks like now we all need a little drink to steady our nerves.
Not that we got cold feet or anything, we all couldn’t be more excited about marrying the woman of our dreams. But obviously tomorrow is important and we want everything to be perfect for our bride.
“Ha ha, remember how we joked that we should Magnolia-proof the house when we asked her to move in?” Blake smirks. “I guess she isn’t the only klutz in the family.”
Porter immediately bristles. “I’d seriously shut up if I were you, bro. After all, I wasn’t the one who shot Burlington in the leg.”
“Touché!” I howl with laughter but am immediately put in my place by both my brothers.
“You seriously shouldn’t laugh, you almost blinded Hiroshi with your ketchup.”
That’s true, and Porter almost dragged Magnolia down with him when he slipped while going down the stairs earlier. She actually steadied him up.
The thought hits me suddenly; lately the guys and I have been a little less steady than usual and Magnolia has been way less accident prone.
“Guys, the reason why we haven’t had any luck with our decision is that really Magnolia hasn’t needed any rescuing after we proposed. Did you notice? After we came home from the sky bar and we had that amazing night with her, she’s been ... way less klutzy.”
Porter and Blake both agree after considering my words. “You’re right. Sure there’s been a few misunderstandings with Jen’s bachelorette party and at the wedding but that was mostly because of Richard and Harriet.”
“Mom and Dad,” I correct them. “Yeah but this is why our plan of declaring a winner based on who rescued her most didn’t work.”
Blake takes a sip of his drink and then observes, “If anything, she’s been getting us out of a few pickles. Is it me or have we been a little more accident prone lately?”
We ponder the situation quietly for a moment. “Yeah, I admit it,” Porter says. “We haven’t really been on our game lately. Maybe is it pre-wedding jitters?” he then teases.
“Shut up, bridezilla! I don’t have any jitters about marrying Magnolia. If you’re nervous, don’t worry, I’ll take one for the team and sign my name on that certificate,” Blake offers.
“Ha, fat chance!” I intervene. “None of us is nervous about marrying her. If anything, we all want to be the official husband.”
Porter seems perplexed for a second but it isn’t doubts about his feelings for Magnolia or the wedding. “I still don’t get how we got three wedding licenses with the same woman,” he muses.
I explain that my dad is friends with the clerk that works at the county office where they release that kind of paperwork. “The guy’s in a polyamorous relationship, so we’re lucky. He agreed to produce three licenses and then just register the paperwork for the one with the official groom’s name on it. “So right now our licenses aren’t really valid. We’ll get married tomorrow but everything will be registered after. So, the official wedding date on the actual certificate will be one day later.”
“Look guys, I know that it sucks that we can’t all officially marry her but the law is clear on the fact that marriage is between two people. Maybe one day things will change but for now, we need to make a decision,” I state.
Blake sighs. “Right. So is any of us willing to concede?”
We’ve always done that since we were kids when we were arguing about something, we’d call for the chance to walk away, no questions asked. But we’re three stubborn motherfuckers, so we all stare at one another but nobody budges.
“Regardless of who wins, I do have an idea though ...” I whisper my thoughts to my friends. I know Magnolia is away and Richard is probably snoring in her bedroom but I want it to be a surprise, if my brothers agree.
“Ok then, we agree. Rock, paper, scissors it is. Best of three?”